The Visitor
by celebratethevictories
Summary: A post 5x13 fic. Blake has been living with Ted quite happily for just over a year. On a special night, everything is going exceedingly well - until a knock at the door changes everything.
1. Chapter 1

"Black or blue?" Blake asked, holding up a tie of either color in each hand.

An early start began this Friday morning in mid-September 2007. Blake had been living with Ted in his small, but neatly kept one-bedroom flat for just over a year, having settled in quite happily together shortly after reuniting on Ted's birthday. Ted still worked for Brian as the head accountant at Kinnetic, and Blake continued his work as a counselor at the rehab facility where both he and Ted had found their way to sobriety.

He hadn't been a counselor long, but he had managed to make quite an impression in a short period of time. He was well-liked by the patients and the staff; and for the first time, his history of addiction was an asset rather than a shameful burden. As a counselor, it was important to be relatable and accessible, so ties were not a part of Blake's usual wardrobe - jeans and a crisp button down shirt usually did the trick. But today was special. Today Blake would present his proposal for a new program he was hoping to implement at the rehab center.

As a patient, he had struggled during the transition from in-patient to out-patient treatment. Then, as a counselor, he watched Ted struggle in the same way, as he worked to re-adjust to the outside world. Blake knew all too well that after a while rehab could feel like a cocoon, like a safe place where you could hide from and ignore the troubles of "real life".

Now he was seeing far too many people leave the facility only to return weeks, or even days later, seemingly unable to cope with the life outside the center. He hoped his new program would help prepare patients for the transition, easing them back into their lives rather than simply shoving them out the door. Unfortunately, this meant standing in front of several board members and convincing them that his program was both necessary and affordable. As a rookie counsellor, he would need to be taken seriously. This meant suiting up.

"You do realize I'm probably not the best person to be giving out fashion advice?" Ted asked, sitting slumped over on the edge of their bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Aren't you forgetting that you're the one who helped me pick out my very first suit?"

A slight grin crossed Ted's face as the memory sprang to his mind. "Still, either one will look fantastic. You know it will" Ted assured him.

Blake sighed light-heartedly and rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to flatter me. It's working, but stop" he said, a cheeky smile springing to his face as he grabbed Ted's hand and pulled him off the bed. "Black or blue? C'mon."

Ted stood before him, doing his best to fain interest in those tiny pieces of coloured fabric. "Uh…Blue!" he said, taking the corresponding tie from Blake's left hand. "It matches your eyes." He secretly loved the way any time there was a shade of blue near Blake's face -a tie, a shirt, a scarf- his eyes would light up and shimmer like sapphires.

Blake simply batted his lashes in response - that same cheeky grin still plastered on his face. Ted couldn't help but chuckle at his youthful exuberance. He was grateful, if slightly amazed, that although nearly thirty, Blake still possessed such a cheerful spirit. Ted lifted the blue tie in his right hand and placed it around his partner's slender neck.

Blake was going to protest. He was going to say something about how he was fully capable of tying his own tie, of dressing himself, but he decided to let Ted continue. It was nice to see him smile so early in morning.

"There" Ted said, fiddling with the tie, picking at every detail until it was just right.

"See?" he said, turning Blake to face the large mirror which sat to the left of their bed. "You could stop traffic with those eyes!"

"Think that'll impress the board members?", Blake asked playfully.

"Sure it will."

"Not if I'm late" Blake countered, glancing down at his watch. "Jacket, jacket, jacket", he repeated under his breath as he began to scour the closet for the top half of his suit.

"It's 6:00am!", Ted exclaimed. "You're not going to be late."

"Ah, there it is" Blake said with a relieved sigh, ignoring Ted's comment about the time as he rushed to put his arms through the sleeves.

"Whoa, slow down! Breathe. I'm the neurotic one, remember?" Ted quipped, trying his best to calm Blake's nerves; although there was a tiny part of him that enjoyed the sudden role reversal.

Blake smiled and took in a big breath as Ted suggested. He turned to stare at himself one final time in mirror. "Here goes nothing", he lamented.

"You'll do great", Ted said confidently as Blake reached for his briefcase. "You have everything you need?"

"Mmhm, I packed everything last night" Blake revealed, tapping his briefcase with his left hand as he held it in his right.

Ted briefly lowered his head and smiled just slightly. "You sure I can't drive you?" he asked tentatively, getting up from the bed and peering out the window to inspect the weather.

"No, no. You need the car more than I do. It's only a ten minute walk for me. Besides, I need the fresh air to clear my head a bit."

"Alright" Ted replied, sighing and throwing his hands in the air as if to signal surrender. He knew this was not the time to argue. "I'll pick you up at five then?"

"Sounds good. Okay, now I actually have to go or I really will be late" Blake said, before swiftly exiting the bedroom.

"Hey!" Ted called out, racing after Blake and grabbing his hand before he leapt out the front door. He pulled him in close, until their foreheads touched. "I mean it. You'll do great - better than great."

Blake nuzzled his forehead into Ted's, breathing in deeply, doing his best to absorb the steadiness and serenity of the moment. There was time he have questioned Ted's seemingly unshakable belief, but over time he had grown to trust it, and to draw strength from it. He lifted his forehead from Ted's and looked him in the eyes with a bashful, yet deeply appreciative smile. "Love you" he said warmly, still smiling.

Ted kissed him lightly on the lips. "Love you too", he replied, giving Blake's forearm a gentle squeeze.

With that, Blake headed out the door and started down the long hallway towards the elevator. Ted stood just outside the door, watching his partner proudly. Once at the end of the hall, Blake pushed the elevator button multiple times as it had a tendency to stick.

As he disappeared into the elevator, Ted re-entered the now vacant apartment. He closed the door and paused, smiling to himself as he often did when he thought of just how far Blake had come.

It was 4:50pm. Ted pulled into the parking lot of the rehab center to see a beautiful blond man in a suit waiting for him. As the car came to a stop at the curb, Ted reached over to the passenger side door and pushed it open. "You didn't have to wait outside. I would have come in to get you" he called out to Blake, who stood a few feet away from the car.

"It's okay" Blake assured, making his way to the car and putting his hand on top of the door frame. "I finished a little earlier than I thought I would, and it looked nice out. So I thought I would just wait out here."

Blake got into the car, threw his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "You have no idea how happy I am that that's over!" He exclaimed, with a deep sigh of relief.

Ted starred over at him and smiled, remaining silent. Soon Blake opened his eyes, caught off guard by the sudden quietness. "What?" he asked, looking over at Ted with a puzzled expression.

"Well…aren't you going to tell me how it went? Did you stop any traffic?" Ted inquired.

"Oh yeah! Sorry", Blake said with a laugh. He'd become so wrapped up in his own sense of relief that he'd forgotten how eager Ted would be to hear all the gory details. "I won't know their final answer until next week, but they seemed to like the idea."

"Seemed to like the idea?" Ted prodded, rolling his eyes at Blake's modesty.

"I just don't want to be too confident. I'm still a rookie in their books. So you never know" Blake said with slightly worried, yet bashful grin. "Oh! And before I forget - thank you for all your help with the budget side of everything. Seriously, if this thing goes through, it'll be because of you. Lord knows all the board members really care about is money."

"No need to thank me" Ted said, placing his hand on Blake's left shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "To be honest, it was probably the one time I've actually enjoyed number crunching."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I guess it helps to have a worthy cause." Ted said cheerfully.

"Still though, I know it was a ton of work." Blake countered, placing his own hand over Ted's, which still rested atop his shoulder. "Speaking of which, how was _your _day?"

"Oh you know, same old, same old. Numbers, fetching Brian coffee, more numbers, Brian carrying on about his supposedly _fabulous_ nights out, more numbers…"

"Well, he'd be lost without you, that's for sure" Blake said reassuringly.

Both men paused and smiled appreciatively, taking a moment to fasten their seatbelts.

"Man, I am starving!" Blake declared, finally feeling relaxed enough to listen to the rumbles of his stomach.

"Why don't we go somewhere? My treat. Brian's always going on about this new Thai place."

"No, no - save your money. Besides, if we don't eat that salmon in the fridge, it'll go bad. So we can have that, and maybe I'll whip up some roasted potatoes and a salad or something. Nothing fancy."

"You really want to go home and cook after all that?" Ted said with a concerned look. "I mean, I'd offer to be the chef, but I don't think we'd end up with much of a dinner."

"It's fine", Blake said with a laugh. "Honestly. Cooking relaxes me and we'd just end up waiting hours at a restaurant anyway."

"Alright" Ted said with a sigh. "Can I at least do the dishes and set the table?"

"_That _you can do!"

Blake entered their apartment first, followed closely by Ted.

"I am starving!" Blake declared, removing his suit jacket and hanging it in the closet. "I better get the salmon ready to go"

"You're not even going to change first?"

"I will", Blake assured. "Just let me get the prepping done, and I'll change while everything's cooking. It'll be faster"

"We can still go out if you want" Ted insisted, feeling guilty that his partner had just stepped in the door and was already back at work.

"Would you stop. It's fine. Really" Blake said earnestly, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt to avoid getting them dirty.

"I guess I'll get started on the table setting then", Ted said, grabbing some cutlery from the drawer next to Blake and kissing him lightly on the cheek before making his way to the dining table across the room.

Blake grabbed the salmon fillet and a bag of potatoes from the fridge, pausing briefly to watch Ted as he ever so meticulously set the table. He made an art of it, ensuring everything was placed in exactly the right spot.

"I swear you could set the table for The Queen and she wouldn't be disappointed" Blake called out from across the room, his face full of joy and admiration.

Ted laughed heartily. "Why thank you, kind sir" he quipped in a horrifically bad British accent.

_A knock at the door._

"Well, what do you know, that must be her now!" Ted joked, glancing over at Blake who still appeared highly amused by his abysmal attempt at imitating British royalty.

"Can you get that?" Blake asked with a chuckle. "My hands are all fishy."

"Sure" Ted replied, carefully placing the last piece of cutlery on the table and hurrying to the door.

He opened the door to see a scruffy, middle-aged man staring back at him. He was adorned in a heavily worn denim jacket and jeans.

"Can I help you?" Ted asked politely, though he fully expected to hear the familiar ramblings of an eager salesman.

The man gazed carefully at Ted. "I'm looking for my son", he said somewhat bluntly.

"Your… son?" Ted asked, pausing between words, deeply puzzled as he gave the man before him a similar once over. He looked carefully at the scruffy man who stood before him, searching for any similarity between him and the beautiful blond who stood washing his hands in the kitchen sink.

Physically, there was little to connect the two. The man's face was weathered and aged, and his hair was thin and greying. His eyes were deep brown, not at all like the blue ones that so often lit up his partner's youthful face. His pants were held up by a thick belt with a large, imposing buckle that sat just below his protruding stomach.

However, there was one striking similarity. The denim jacket that adorned his upper body was nearly an exact replica of the one Blake wore throughout the beginning of their relationship.

Ted compared the two jackets in his mind, taking a moment to steady himself before he spoke. "Blake?" he asked nervously, still sure that the man had simply made is way to the wrong apartment.

"Yeah?" Blake said, as he dried his hands and made his way to the door, thinking Ted was calling him over.

"That's him" the man said, gesturing in Ted's direction with his right hand.

Ted quickly turned to see Blake who now stood frozen in place a few feet behind him.

The tension between father and son was palpable, but Ted soon interrupted with his relentless hospitality. "Oh! Wow. I mean… I didn't know…I mean…it's great to meet you!", Ted stuttered. He paused for a moment, realizing he didn't even know the man's first name. "Mr. Wyzecki".

Ted wanted to say something more hospitable, more welcoming – like "Oh, Blake has told me so much about you". But the truth was, Blake rarely ever mentioned his family.

"Walt" the man said, revealing his first name.

"Walt", Ted repeated with an overly enthusiastic smile. "Well, come on in!"

"How did you find me?" Blake interjected as his father entered the apartment.

Walt paid little attention to his son's question, instead looking around the place both Ted and Blake called home.

Rather than press for an answer, Blake retreated back to the comfort of the kitchen and the meal he had been preparing. But the flat's open concept design provided little in the way of privacy or solitude. What he longed for was an escape, but for now it seemed all three of them were doomed to be contained in the same space.

"Have a seat. Can I get you something?" Ted asked, bursting with a nervous, fluttery energy as he made his way toward the fridge. "Neither of us drink, so I'm afraid all we've got to offer is water, milk, coffee, tea – oh and there may be a stray can of ginger ale hiding in here somewhere."

"Coffee." Walt replied distractedly, still standing and gazing from the floorboards to the ceiling.

"Sure. Um, milk, cream, sugar?"

"Black."

"Oh, okay. Well that's easy." Ted said, flicking on the coffee maker "My father likes his the same way" he added, hoping to find a common thread between them that would help break the ice.

But Walt didn't respond, he just kept gazing around the room.

"Please, have a seat" Ted insisted, hurrying over to the table to clear off a few books and papers that cluttered its surface. "Sorry about the mess" he said, turning to look at Walt who had taken a seat on the chair in the far left corner of the room.

"We weren't really expecting company". Ted cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. "Not that…I mean…it's wonderful to have your company", he said, tripping over his words as he attempted to correct what he deemed an inhospitable blunder.

"Oh and you're welcome to stay for dinner!" Ted exclaimed, cursing himself again that he had failed to make the offer sooner. "We're having salmon tonight and there's plenty to go around. Your son is quite the cook!" he said, pausing to look over at Blake who busied himself slicing potatoes. Ted waited for Blake to say something, anything at all, but he remained silent, his eyes focused intently on the cutting board in front of him.

"Yes well, he always did have a…_feminine_ touch" Walt quipped, picking at his fingernails with a self-satisfied grin.

The comment sent the knife in Blake's right hand crashing to tiles beneath his feet; the simmering tension within him bubbling to the surface as he heard the cynical, repulsed tone in his father's voice. A brief silence followed, as Blake scurried to pick up the knife and regain his composure while Ted looked on. The two shared a moment of mutual relief from across the room when the unbearable quietness was replaced by the beeping of the coffee maker signaling a fresh pot.

"That must be your coffee" Ted said, trying to hide the quiver in his voice as he swallowed nervously before making his way to the kitchen. Seeing that the coffee was indeed done, Ted reached to grab a mug from the cupboard above the stove. He filled it nearly to the brim, needing no room for milk, cream, or sugar. He left the mug of steaming liquid on the counter for a moment, turning his attention to Blake. "You alright?" he whispered, placing a supportive hand on his lower back.

Though Walt could not hear the verbal exchange between the two men, the physical contact between them had not gone unnoticed as he peered up from picking at his fingernails.

"I'm fine." Blake responded, nodding his head and forcing a slight closed-mouthed smile.

Ted smiled back softly and removed his hand from the small of Blake's back. "Mmm. Smells great!" he exclaimed, ensuring his voice would be loud enough for Walt to hear as he collected the mug from the counter and walked across the apartment to the living room. "Careful, it's still pretty hot", he cautioned.

Walt said nothing, and took a miniscule sip of the piping hot liquid before placing it on the table in front of him.

The room fell silent once more – Blake still focused intently on dinner preparations, Ted immersed and nearly drowning in awkwardness, and Walt busy picking at his nails once again.

Then, much to everyone's surprise, it was Walt who broke the silence. "Nice place you got here", he said.

From across the room, Blake grimaced at his father's words– 'nice place' – the same words he had uttered nearly seven years ago upon entering Ted's apartment for the first time.

"Thank you" Ted replied earnestly. "It's not much, really - but it's home."

Walt nodded slowly in response. "So…Ted was it?"

"Yes - Theodore, Ted, Teddy. Any of those are fine", he said with a smile, elated that Blake's father was beginning to show a bit of interest.

"What do you do?" Walt asked.

"Me? I'm an accountant. Not too exciting, I know. I manage the books for Kinnetic" Ted replied, clearing his throat, as he noticed a slight look of confusion cross Walt's face. "It's a marketing firm in the city", he clarified.

"Sounds nice."

"It is. I'm just lucky, really. The owner's a friend of mine – a friend of ours, I should say" Ted replied, looking towards Blake, hoping to get his partner involved in the conversation. "But I'd say out of the two of us, Blake has the more exciting occupation", he continued, with light-hearted chuckle.

"Ah yes. Mister Miracle worker", Walt said in a flat voice, peppered with sarcasm

"You should be very proud. Your son's really quite remarkable at what he does" Ted said, smiling over at Blake.

"Is that so?" Walt asked.

"Absolutely! Unfortunately, he's also quite modest" Ted replied, in an attempt to excuse Blake's unusual silence.

"Actually", Ted continued. "Today was kind of a special day. He presented his plan for a new rehabilitation program to a bunch of board members. It seems to have gone really well."

Ted looked at Blake, then at Walt, expecting some sort of enthusiastic response, or at the very least a bit of fatherly pride in his eyes, but there was neither. Walt simply nodded, saying nothing as he forced a half-hearted smile.

"So, how about yourself?" Ted asked, deliberately changing the direction the conversation was headed, yet feeling unsure as he caught a glimpse of the less than thrilled expression on Walt's face. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. Blake had mentioned that both of his parents worked so I just-"

"Did he?" Walt retorted, rising to his feet once more, before removing his denim jacket and tossing it on the chair. "Well go on Blakey" he said, moving toward the kitchen. "How about you tell Ted here what your dear old dad does for living?"

Blake let out a heavy sigh, not of embarrassment but of disinterest, as he heard the familiar confrontational tone creep into his father's voice.

"He works at Tulsen's. It's a meat packaging plant." He said calmly, keeping his eyes fixed on the cutting board as he continued slicing potatoes.

"Oh, really? Can't say I've ever met anyone in that line of work before" Ted said earnestly, glancing between Blake and Walt from a few feet away.

"No, I wouldn't think so." Walt replied flatly.

"I guess it's a good thing we're not vegetarians, huh?" Ted joked, trying to keep the mood light.

"Yes well, we can't all be accountants and miracle workers, can we?" Walt replied flatly.

"Thank God. What a boring world that would be" Ted quickly countered, hoping his previous remarks had come off as non-judgemental as he had intended. "And as my father always says, there's no shame in earning an honest day's pay for an honest day's work."

"Hear that?" Walt said, looking toward his son.

"You know I don't have a problem with where you work. I never have." Blake said confidently, though he was beginning to lose patience.

"Really?" Walt insisted.

"Yes. Really." Blake said sternly. "So if you've just come here to pick a fight. You should know, I'm not interested."

"Then what's this?" Walt asked, removing an opened envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and tossing it on the kitchen counter.

"Looks like an envelope to me" Blake retorted flatly.

Walt gave his son a cunning smile. "Let's just see, shall we?"

He proceeded to remove a neatly folded piece of paper from the envelope. He wasted no time unfolding it and began reading – "_Dear mom…"_

Blake felt his heart sink deep into his stomach. "Where did you find that?"

_"Dear mom…" _Walt repeated, once again ignoring his son's plea for information.

_I hope you and the kids are well. I spoke to Jenny the other day. She said nursing school is going well and she said to tell you she loves you, as do I._

_Since I know you tend to worry, I want you to know that you don't have to. I'm happy for the first time in a long, long time. Ted is amazing! I'm so lucky to have him. I would love for you to meet him someday. I know you would adore him just as much as I do._

_Please take what I have enclosed. Don't even think about sending it back. It's yours. I know I can trust you to use it wisely._

_Be sure to give the kids a hug for me._

_And remember, if you ever need anything - don't be afraid to call._

_Lots of love,_

_Blake_

"Aw, isn't that sweet? Can't even be bothered to mention your dear old dad, can you?" Walt said, crumpling the letter and veiling his anger in thick sarcasm.

Blake did his best to veil his own emotions, determined not to sink to his father's level of depravity. He continued staring at the cutting board before him as his eyes began to fill with a mixture of fury and sadness.

Not satisfied with his son's demure reaction, Walt continued as if on some happy tirade. "And the best part is, look what's inside!" he exclaimed, removing a large stack of money from the confines of the envelope and slamming it down on the counter that stood between him and his son.

The sudden, thunderous thud of his curled fist colliding with the granite was enough to make both Ted and Blake jump.

"You know, it's funny. On the way here I kept thinking – how in the hell did my son get his hands on all this money? But now it all makes sense. It's quite the plan really. Find some well off guy, weasel your way into his life and take-take-take. But I mean honestly, couldn't you have found someone a little…younger? Don't tell me you actually sleep with _him_!" Walt said with a laugh, his voice filled with repulsion as he glanced over at Ted, who stood in stunned silence halfway between the living room and the kitchen.

Walt returned his gaze to his son. "Unless…this is how he repays you?" he sneered, running his fingers over the money.

Suddenly, Blake's eyes shot up and he glared at his father with a burning fury. "How dare you. How fucking dare you" he said in low, deceptively composed voice. He inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his frayed nerves and regain his composure, but the fresh flow of oxygen to his lungs only served to embolden him. Still, he was careful to keep his voice low.

"Okay one - yes, I do sleep with him and I _love_ it, and believe me, he would never have to pay. Two – this is _my_ money, and _I earned_ it so I'll do what I want with it. Three – you can treat me however you want to, I really don't care. I put up with your shit for seventeen years - but you see that man there?" he said, gesturing towards Ted, "That's the man that saved your son's life when you were too drunk to stand up and be a father."

Blake paused, his voice breaking as he was forced to utter that final word - 'father' – a word he had avoided using for years, a word he had no reason to use, a word that still felt indefinable and foreign as it sprang from his mouth.

"That…" Blake continued, gesturing forcefully towards Ted once more. "…is the man I love. So I suggest you show him a little respect."

Walt rolled his eyes. "Respect!" he belted, his voice much louder than his son's. "Well, while we're on the subject, why don't you show me a little respect and tell me what exactly is going on here?"

"There's nothing going on here" Blake said, working hard to regain the air of calmness in his voice.

"Clearly, there is." Walt said sternly, glancing toward the stack of money still sitting on the counter.

Blake sighed heavily. "I was just trying to help out."

"Help your _mother_ out", Walt corrected.

"Help my _family _out", Blake said firmly.

"So I'm not a not a part of your family then?" Walt asked, combatively.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Sure sounded like it" Walt snorted. "So…what? You just thought you'd go behind my back and start giving handouts."

"It's not a handout. And it's not charity, or whatever you think it is." Blake insisted. "I just wanted her to have it, that's all."

"Your mother." Walt correct once more. "You wanted your mother to have it."

"Yes" Blake said with confidence. "Why is that so wrong?"

"Maybe because you didn't bother to tell me, that's why!"

"Maybe because I knew this is how you'd react. Maybe because she deserves it. Maybe because I can trust her to do the right thing."

"So you don't trust me?" Walt asked. "And what's that supposed to mean –'do the right thing'?"

"I knew that if I sent it to her, she'd use it wisely. She'd make sure there was food on the table, hot water in the pipes. She'd spend it on the _family_ – and yes, that includes you".

"But you wouldn't send it to me?"

"I didn't think you'd take it. And I knew if you did…" Blake said, before stopping himself mid-sentence.

"Go on. Say it" Walt urged. "You knew if I did…what?"

"…most of it would end up in the till at the bar" Blake admitted.

"Ah yes, because I'm the selfish drunk who spends his days at the bar" Walt said sheepishly.

"Well, judging by the way you're acting right now, I'm guessing that's where you were earlier tonight."

Walt suppressed his rage with a sly, disingenuous smile, choosing to ignore his son's correct assumption about his whereabouts earlier that evening.

"Kind of ironic, isn't it? - _you_ lecturing _me_ about drinking" Walt taunted. "Wasn't too long ago this kind of cash would be going right up your nose, remember?"

Blake remained silent, his gaze retuning to the cutting board and partially sliced potatoes in front of him. He remembered quite clearly.

"Who knows, maybe it still is?" Walt prodded.

"Well, I can assure you, it's not." Blake said firmly, determined not to let his father's taunting wind him up any further.

"Oh yes, I forgot. You're Mister Miracle worker now. But you're no angel, Blakey" Walt snickered, moving closer to his son. "And you're one to talk about 'doing the right thing'. Let's not forget, you left this family! You ran! Do you know how much you hurt your mother? She cried for weeks after you left. Weeks! And the kids, every one of them suddenly wondering where their big brother disappeared to. Why he couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye. So no, you don't get to swoop back in now and be a hero. Not when I've worked every day of my goddamn life to a support a family you couldn't care less about!"

"I do care!" Blake barked, reacting without thought. "And I was more of a father to those kids than you ever were!"

Blake instantly regretted raising his voice. As much of a stranger as his father had become, he knew the type of rage that bubbled just below the surface.

In an instant, Walt shoved his son up against the sink, the force causing Blake's elbow to collide with a stack of clean dishes that had been left to dry in a rack on the counter behind him. Blake winced as the squared edge of the granite countertop dug into his lower back while the dishes crashed loudly into the stainless steel basin.

The noise did not faze Walt, who grabbed tight hold of his son's tie and pulled down and forward forcefully, attempting to dwarf him by any means necessary. By this time, a deeply concerned Ted had hurried to the kitchen, and now stood a foot behind Walt, keeping a close eye on Blake's expression, unsure of what to do next.

"You listen here!" Walt raged between gritted teeth, pulling harder on Blake's tie as he spoke, bringing his son's face closer and closer to his own. "You think you're so much better than me, don't you? Well you know what? You can keep your money and your glorious dinner! It's all lie! Everything. Because I know the truth. I know my own son. And this isn't you. Not even close. So you can play house all you want. You can put on this fancy suit and this fancy tie and go to your fancy job. But the truth is, you're really just like me. And all this - it's all pretend. It won't last. Because people like us, they don't change. Ever."

With that, Ted had had enough of Walt's tirade, and although he typically avoided confrontation at all cost, the look of anguish on Blake's face gave him the push he needed to intervene. "Look, Mr. Wyzecki, I think you'd better leave" he said firmly, moving forward, placing one hand against Walt's shoulder and the other on the arm that still pulled viciously on Blake's tie. A brief but tense silence filled the air as Walt peered into his son's blue eyes with a chilling intensity, ignoring the voice that pleaded with him to leave. "Now!" Ted added more forcefully.

Finally, Walt relented, stepping back and freeing the blue tie from his relentless grip, leaving it crinkled and dangling from the neck of his now thoroughly tormented son. "Oh don't worry, I wasn't planning on staying!" he barked, heading across to the living room to fetch his denim jacket, as Ted followed closely behind.

He lifted his jacket from the the chair where he had been sitting and headed for the door, as Ted and Blake looked on, their eyes fixed to him as he finally excited their apartment. Both men stood motionless for moment, Ted near the door and Blake still with his back to the kitchen sink.

Soon, a sound broke through the silence and Ted turned just in time to see Blake disappear into the bathroom. "Blake?" he called out with heavy sigh. He stood there frozen a moment longer, before quickly coming to the realization that there was something he had to do. He headed out the door and into the long, narrow hallway now desperate to speak to the man he'd just asked to leave.

"Mr. Wyzecki!" Ted called out, to no avail. "Walt!" he exclaimed, catching up to the denim covered man who sluggishly made his way to the elevator at the end of the corridor.

"Look" Ted began, a little out of breath as he stepped in front of Walt. "How are you getting home?"

"Huh?" Walt grunted.

"Home. How are you getting there?"

"That's none of your Goddamn business" Walt said sharply.

"You're right. It's not", Ted admitted.

Walt rolled his eyes and moved around Ted, reaching for the elevator button.

"But…" Ted began, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his wallet, pulling out a few bills. "Just take this. I'll call you a cab."

"Are you kidding me? Did you not hear anything I just said in there? I don't want handouts!"

"Believe me, I heard it all", Ted revealed. "But I can assure you, this is _my_ money, not Blake's. And I know he'd probably never speak to me again if he knew what I was doing out here right now. But I also know that, deep down, he loves you. You're the only father he's got, and if you never make it home tonight, he'd hate himself forever. So I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing it for him. And if you love him as much as I do, as much as you should, then you'll take it and let me call you a cab" Ted said firmly, holding the money out in his right hand.

He fully expected to be yelled at and perhaps threatened, but instead Walt slowly took the money from his hand, never lifting his head high enough to make eye contact. Ted was sure he saw a fleeting hint of remorse cross Walt's face as he shoved the bills into the back pocket of his jeans.

Walt remained silent while Ted called for a cab, facing the elevator which arrived just as Ted hung up his cell phone. As he entered it, Ted left him with one final message in a voice deepened by sadness: "You know, I hope one day you realize what an incredible son you have."

With that, the elevator doors closed and the inebriated man was whisked down to the lobby.


	2. Chapter 2

Ted re-entered his apartment only to find Blake had emerged from the bathroom and was now standing in the kitchen, lifting pieces of broken plates from the sink. He suddenly felt unsure as he sensed the atmosphere of tension had not fully vanished with Walt's exit.

"Blake?" he said cautiously. "Listen, sorry I ran off like that. I just wanted to make sure he got down the elevator alright. You know how that button sticks."

Receiving no reply, he slowly made his way to his partner's side. "Here. Let me do that" he said quietly over Blake's shoulder.

"It's fine. I've got it" Blake replied, forcing a smile.

"You really don't have to-

"I'm sorry about your dishes. I'll replace them." Blake said softly, though his voice was nearly robotic.

"They're _our _dishes not mine" Ted reminded him. "Besides, I never liked them much anyway."

Blake ignored his comments and continued clearing the shattered dishes from the sink, placing the pieces in a large green garbage bag.

"Blake, you really don't have to do that."

"It's fine, really."

"Look, I don't care about the dishes. Are you alright?" Ted asked with concern.

Blake ignored him once more. "Here, did you want to finish setting the table. I think we still need some forks. I've got to put this in the oven" he said, looking towards the pan of sliced potatoes he planned to roast.

Ted opened his mouth to speak, but closed it promptly as Blake gave him a shy closed-mouthed smile. He took the cutlery from Blake's hand and did as he asked, placing the forks alongside the two plates that had escaped the fate of those lying in the sink.

Once his task was complete, he made his way back to the kitchen where Blake busied himself moving between cupboards and drawers.

"What are you looking for?" he asked hesitantly.

"I can't find the oven mitts."

Ted looked around the kitchen, soon spotting them the red and white mitts sitting in plain sight atop the counter beside the stove.

"Here" he said, presenting them to Blake with a gentle smile.

Blake took them from his hand, making no eye contact as he did. "Oh here, can to put this on the table?" he added, passing him a bottle of salad dressing before turning to face the sink once more.

Ted took the salad dressing, glanced down at it for a moment and then returned his gaze to Blake. He set the dressing on the counter next to him and sighed deeply. "Look, would you please just talk to me? Are you alright? He didn't hurt you did he?" Ted asked, placing a hand on Blake's left shoulder.

Blake put the broken dish he was holding back into the sink before turning around, causing Ted's hand to fall from his shoulder. "I told you, I'm fine", he said firmly.

Ted reached to touch Blake's face, but Blake grabbed hold of his hand before it made contact and returned it to his side. "Just …thank you for being concerned, okay? But you don't need to be."

Blake grabbed the salad dressing from the counter. "I know this is all a little new to you, but like I said, I put up with him for seventeen years, okay? This is nothing new to me", he said calmly, moving past Ted and as he headed towards the table.

"That doesn't make it right" Ted said, now staring at his partner's back. "Just…"

"What?" Blake asked, with his back still to Ted as he placed the dressing in the center of the table. "I've got dishes to clean up, dinner to make…"

"The dishes can wait and so can dinner. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, I promise"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Because I saw that look on your face a few minutes ago, so don't keep telling me you're 'fine'"

Blake sighed heavily and turned towards Ted. "Look, we've both had a long day, so why don't we just forget this ever happened and have dinner like we planned, okay?" he said, smiling slightly as he brushed past Ted and moved towards the kitchen.

"Why are you running from me?"

The question stopped Blake in his tracks, as equal amounts of anger and hurt bubbled beneath his skin.

Ted closed his eyes, immediately wishing he could take back what he'd said. He grimaced, cursing himself for accusing Blake of the very thing his father had accused him of only moments ago – running.

"I'm sorry" he lamented, his eyes still closed. "I didn't mean that. You know I'm no good with words. I just mean…it's okay to let me in. I'm not going anywhere. He hasn't scared me away, if that's what you're thinking"

"You looked pretty scared to me" Blake retorted, a little more forcefully than he had intended, as the sting of Ted's accusation still ruminated within him.

"I was just shocked, that's all" Ted admitted. "That anyone could treat you that way…that anyone would ever want to" he added softly, taking a step towards Blake.

"Believe me, that was pretty tame for him. You're just lucky he didn't get his hands on one of these" Blake said almost jokingly, grabbing hold of the knife he had been using to slice potatoes and raising it in the air.

"Blake…"

"What?", Blake asked plainly, placing the knife back down on the counter.

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying to scare me away. It won't work" Ted said, placing his hand on Blake's shoulder once more, before it was quickly shrugged off.

"Ted, please don't, okay?"

Ted sighed heavily. "Why won't you just talk to me?"

"Because."

"Because why?" Ted asked desperately.

"Because I don't want to be that kid again, okay?" Blake snapped. "Not the kid he pushes around, not the kid who wakes up in hospitals - in crack houses, not the kid who needs to be coddled and looked after. I swore to myself I would never be him again. All I want to do is get as far away from that life as possible."

"And you have.", Ted reassured.

"Mister Miracle worker" Blake retorted, repeating his father's words with a bitter, deflated sarcasm.

"You are a miracle worker!" Ted insisted, but Blake simply scoffed at his remark, turning his back to him once again.

"I'm serious" Ted insisted. "That's the one accurate thing he said the whole time he was here. You're always there to put everyone back together when they fall apart, including me. Only sometimes I think you forget that even miracle workers get to fall apart once in a while."

"Not everyone" Blake murmured.

"What?"

"A substance abuse counsellor with an alcoholic father, doesn't that seem a little odd to you?" Blake asked, turning to face Ted.

"Please don't tell me you actually blame yourself for the way he is" Ted said in disbelief.

"Not entirely, no. But if was such a miracle worker, then he wouldn't still be the way he is."

"The way he is has _nothing_ to do with you. You're nothing like him. He was dead wrong about that."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be so sure."

"I _am_ sure", Ted said firmly. "Look, what you've managed to accomplish is beyond incredible. And there's not a day that goes by that I don't beam with pride when I watch you walk out the door in the morning, or when I lay down beside you at night."

Blake paused, lowering his head and biting his lip as he reluctantly took in Ted's words. "This is crazy!" he yelled out, causing a baffled expression to appear on Ted's face.

"You should be furious, okay? Just stop being so nice!" he added, the words flowing from his mouth like venom.

Ted stood there, baffled in a brief moment of silence.

Blake inhaled deeply as if to steady himself. "Because of me, a man you don't even know just came into your home, unannounced, insulted you, broke your dishes…."

"Because of you?"

"I am his son, after all. It's not like he came here looking for you."

"It doesn't matter" Ted said.

"It does" Blake said forcefully, growing more and more frustrated with each passing second.

"It doesn't." Ted countered firmly.

Blake rolled his eyes and turned away from Ted, who despite his wishes, continued on rampage of niceness.

"Look, you really think I'm going to worry about a few broken plates right now? Besides, we've still got two perfectly good ones sitting on the table."

Blake glanced over his shoulder at the immaculately set table. "You know what? I'm not even hungry. I just want to take off this ridiculous suit and get some sleep!" he said, throwing his hands in the air.

He moved towards the bedroom, beginning to remove his tie as he walked with Ted trailing closely behind.

"Ted, would you _please_ stop following me! I'm f-"

"'Fine', I know" Ted interrupted.

Blake stopped at the foot of the bed and turned to Ted. "What do you want?" he asked angrily, spinning to face Ted as he wrestled with the knot at the base of neck.

"Just…tell me how you're really feeling?

"How I'm feeling?" Blake asked combatively.

"Yes." Ted pleaded. "Something beyond 'I'm fine'."

"Alright. You want to know how I'm feeling?" Blake barked. "I feel frustrated! I feel trapped! I feel betrayed! I feel exposed! I feel angry at him! I feel angry at myself…" Blake paused, his face reddened and his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke.

"There! Is that what you're looking for? You know all my secrets. Happy now?" he raged, still struggling to remove his tie. "Maybe you're the one who should be running!"

Ted let out a heavy sigh as Blake's words sent his heart plummeting to his stomach. "I already told you" he said softly, taking a step forward. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blake was now furiously pulling at his tie, his hand trembling with anger and unable to free the knot which had tightened with his father's tugging. Ted moved closer, his eyes filling with sadness as he watched Blake struggle and yank at his tie. Without stopping to think, he reached out and put his hand over Blake's as it shook, gently loosening its firm grip on the crinkled blue fabric dangling from his neck.

Once Blake's hand was free, Ted began undoing the troublesome knot as an imposing silence filled the room. He slowly removed the tie from around his partner's slender neck and placed it at the foot of the bed next to him. Blake kept his eyes pointed to the ground, as Ted gazed at him tenderly. Almost immediately, Ted reached forward once more, his hand moving beneath the collar of Blake's white, button down shirt, and finding its way to the soft skin of his neck. Blake's breath caught in his throat, as the gentleness and warmth of his partner's touch began to melt through the anger that had been veiling his inner sorrow.

Instinctively, Ted began caressing the tender bit of skin beneath his fingers and he moved closer still. But it was Blake who closed the gap between them, his veneer of strength finally crumbling as he succumbed to Ted's delicate embrace. Within seconds, tears began to fall from his eyes, his hand clinging tightly to a tuft of Ted's shirt.

Ted closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh as he felt Blake's fingers curl into his back. Tears formed beneath his eyelids as he began to wonder just how cruel the world had been to the fragile young man in his arms. He encircled him tightly, saddened yet grateful that his emotions were finally being released.

"I'm so sorry", Blake mumbled into his shoulder.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing" Ted whispered gently, his heart sinking further into his stomach.

"The things I said…"

"Shh, it's okay"

"…and the things he said about you"

"It's alright" Ted assured him. "And you did a pretty good job defending my honour, if I remember correctly."

Blake smirked briefly through his tears as he remembered the long, stern spiel he had given his father about respecting the man he loved.

Moments later, he slowly emerged from Ted's embrace, looking him in the eyes for the first time since his father left. He smiled appreciatively as he quickly wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks.

"Now" Ted said, breathing a sigh of relief as Blake looked at him. "Are you really not hungry, or were you just saying that?"

"I really am exhausted" Blake lamented, his voice still thick with emotion.

"-because I may not be the best cook in the world, but who knows, I may surprise you. Probably not but-"

"I can finish dinner."

"You just said you were exhausted."

"But you must be starving" Blake said with concern.

"Don't worry about me, or the food" Ted said. "I can put all that stuff in the fridge for tomorrow"

"But…"

"None of it has actually started cooking yet, right? So it'll be fine in the fridge overnight" Ted insisted.

"What are you going to eat though?" Blake asked, his face still reddened and hid breathing still heavy.

"I'll just have some cereal or something" Ted assured him.

"Cereal? For dinner? On a Friday night?"

"I happen to _love_ cereal" Ted said with a smile, gently wiping a lingering tear from Blake's cheek. "And who says a man can't enjoy a delicious bowl of Cheerios on a Friday night. Plus, I'd say the level of cooking required matches my skill set perfectly."

"You're not _that_ bad of a cook, Teddy."

"Yes, I am" Ted admitted. "But it's okay, because that's why we make such a great team. You do the cooking – except for tonight, of course, and I set the table. Fit for a…Queen, was it?"

Blake smiled faintly and nodded.

Ted returned the smile, relieved to see Blake begin to relax.

"Get some sleep" he said, kissing Blake's forehead. "You deserve it, after all. Impressing the pants off those board members the way you did."

"I seem to remember them wearing pants" Blake said with a sideways grin.

"Darn!" Ted yelped sarcastically causing Blake to laugh, albeit somewhat weakly.

"Do you need anything before I-" Ted said, gesturing towards the kitchen.

Blake shook his head and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Get some rest then. I'll be in in a few minutes" Ted uttered with a gentle smile as he squeezed Blake's forearm.

Soon, Ted made his way to the kitchen to tidy up - something he did very well. He put the two remaining pieces of plate in the trash as quietly as he could. Then he cleared the table of the cutlery and dishes that had gone unused, before wrapping the uncooked food and somehow squeezing it into the fridge.

He didn't pour himself a bowl of Cheerios, or any other cereal for that matter. The truth was, like Blake, the events of that evening left him with no desire to eat. Instead, he looked around for more things to tidy and more messes to clean. Before long, he spotted a mug sitting on the coffee table - Walt's mug. He had left it there, nearly full, as he argued and taunted his son. It now served as an ominous reminder of his presence, so Ted quickly collected it and emptied its contents into the sink.

As he watched the dark brown liquid spiral down the drain, he began to wonder how any father could harbour that much anger and resentment towards his own flesh and blood – his own son - especially a son as wonderful as Blake. With that thought, Ted turned his back to the sink and leaned into the granite counter top, wanting to see what it must have felt like to be shoved against its squared and pointed edge. He knew it had to hurt, as even the meager force he applied caused the edge to dig uncomfortably into his back.

Ted closed his eyes, the thought of Blake ever being hurt at the hands of that man almost too much to bear. He wished and hoped with all his might that Blake had been joking about the knife. He had to be. Surely there was no way any father, even one as bitter as Walt, could ever brandish a weapon with the intent of harming one of his own children. No, surely not.

Realising he'd spent more than a few minutes lost in the bleakness of his thoughts, he quickly did a once over of the apartment. Just as he was about to turn off the lights and join Blake for some much needed rest, he saw a crumpled piece of paper lying on the floor - Blake's letter to his mother, which had been cruelly read aloud for all to hear. He went over and lifted it from the ground, unfurling it to reveal Blake's neatly handwritten message. His eyes scanned it and soon caught on a particular section. Though he had heard the words before, seeing them written out with Blake's own hand made them all the more potent.

_"I'm happy for the first time in a long, long time. Ted is amazing! I'm so lucky to have him. I would love for you to meet him someday. I know you would adore him just as much as I do."_

Ted held the letter to his chest, closed his eyes and smiled briefly to himself, hoping that what Blake had written was still true. Part of him wanted to keep the letter forever, in case Blake's feelings had changed, but he knew it was not his to keep. So he did his best to fold it neatly and placed it atop the stack of money still sitting on the counter.

After surveying the room once more, Ted turned off the lights and went to join his partner in bed. He was grateful to see that Blake had left his bedside light on, ensuring that he wouldn't trip on his way to bed. He could see Blake curled beneath the covers, his bare shoulders poking through at the top. He was lying on his side, facing the wall, as his tie sat at the foot of the bed where Ted had placed it.

Though he was relieved to see that Blake had fallen asleep so quickly, the sight of that crinkled piece of fabric sent a pang of sadness through his body. He paused for a moment and gazed at it, before replacing his stuffy work clothes with a baggy t-shirt and boxers.

As he slowly lifted the covers, the small bit of light in the room was enough to illuminate a large bruise beginning to form on Blake's lower back. A mixture of sadness and anger coursed through Ted's body as he slid into bed and turned towards his partner. He stared intently at the mark that bitter man had left behind and reached forward, stopping just short of making contact with his slowly discolouring skin.

"Teddy?" he suddenly heard Blake say. He winced, sure that he had woken Blake from the sleep he wanted and needed. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No" Blake replied faintly.

"Oh" Ted sighed with relief. He rested his head against his pillow and refocused his attention on Blake's back as the room fell quiet.

Moments later, Blake's voice broke through the silence. "Teddy?"

"Yeah" Ted murmured, still staring at his back.

"I love you" he said softly, his voice full of both guilt and sincerity.

Ted inched closer, until his chest pressed lightly against Blake's back. He reached up and put his hand on Blake's arm. "I love you too" he whispered earnestly.

Blake took Ted's hand in his own, pulling it down and around to the front of his body. "And I love that you're nice" he said, as both of their hands lay softly against his chest.

Ted smiled, his eyes clouding with tears as he gently kissed Blake's neck. It was a tender thank you and a bittersweet end to a day that had begun with such promise.


End file.
